“God knows! Someone lit a torch in me—Hullo!”
Fulk had heard the whir of an arrow shot at a venture, and the sound of its striking home. He felt Isoult’s fingers contract on his, and heard her utter a sharp cry.
“Isoult, ar’t hurt?”
She flagged and faltered, with one hand to her side.
“It’s over with me, Fulk; put your arm under my shoulders.”
“Dear heart, where has it struck you?”
“Here, where God thieved from Adam.”
He heard her breathing through clenched teeth, and she began to weigh heavily upon his arm.
“Fulk, I can go no farther.”
“I’ll carry you.”